


The Mystery of the Magical Math Pixie

by context_please



Series: Slice of Paradise [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Episode: s03e08 McKay and Mrs. Miller, Fluff and Humor, Gen, John loves math too much, Major Spoilers, Math is magic, Rodney is clueless, but not too much, we are all nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, Rodney should absolutely have seen it coming. It was almost embarrassing that Radek found out the Magical Math Pixie's identity before he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery of the Magical Math Pixie

**Author's Note:**

> You can read this as a sequel to John Sheppard's School of Projectile Weaponry or as a stand alone. There's a vague reference in here and they're both set in the same universe... although this one is probably a bit canon divergent.
> 
> Set right after McKay and Mrs Miller.

In hindsight, Rodney should absolutely have seen it coming.

The clues had been there the whole time, and whilst he would have been the second (after Sheppard) to admit that he had almost no social skill at all – let alone grace – he was a genius, so how had he missed them?

It was almost embarrassing that Radek found out the Magical Math Pixie’s identity before he did.

 

 

 

 

But, of course, that wasn’t where it all started.

No. It was shortly after the incident with Jeannie and her math proof – which led to the power machine malfunctioning, which then led to Alternate-Reality-Rodney and consequently a lot of him miscalculating – that the Pixie showed itself.

After a long day of work with his minions, and their utter incompetence, they finally limped back to the labs to nurse their egos, as far away from Doctor Rodney McKay as possible. He really hoped they thought that, at least.

As usual, there was a plethora of whiteboards in the public room. It was the place where they convened most often and argued even more so. Often the public debate was a painful, harsh and upsetting experience for Rodney’s minions; or so he’d been told. But they did it often enough anyway, so he didn’t care.

Rodney was just trudging past, eager to be rid of the reek of incompetence that was so common amongst his ‘staff’, when he noticed one of his minions peel off to inspect a whiteboard. It wasn’t unusual – there was always one, every time they passed the main room – except this time there was something different.

Doctor Roykol was approaching the board he’d written over a week ago. Even Rodney McKay had to admit that the man was actually decent at math and physics, and had been a somewhat less moronic addition to his science team. But about a week ago he’d come up with a brilliant – Rodney actually did think it was fascinating – concept for enhancing output in the Puddlejumper’s propulsion systems. He’d come up with the first equation and hit a roadblock with the math. They all had.

The problem with Roykol’s theory was that no current level of math was sufficient to solve the problem. They would need to cobble together a bunch of different mathematics for just one solution out of many. Some people had tried to add solutions, but they had all been crap – even Rodney’s meager contribution, and he could admit that only in his own mind. The whole endeavor was just too complex. It was so frustrating! So it should have been of no interest to Roykol, really, because why would he look at a blank board?

Except that now it wasn’t.

The whole board had been covered in further equations, written in a completely different hand, and extended onto another board that had been cannibalized from the other side of the line. The text was scrawled and messy, hurried, as if the writer had just stopped for a few minutes to scrawl his answer and had to run.

But that made no sense. This was the kind of equation one spent a lot of time on, not writing as they ran.

Rodney felt himself drawn closer to the boards. Roykol’s face was priceless (and all of a sudden he wished he had a camera to show his other minions what their expressions should be like when they were addressing him) and he was motionless, lips barely moving as he murmured quietly to himself.

Rodney followed the equations, the varying forms of mathematical expression, and as he did so it all began to make sense. Like the dawn – which he never got up to see anyway – it rose in front of him, beautiful, perfect, and surprisingly simple. Now that he could see it in front of him, it was so easy and he automatically filled in three more nonexistent boards mentally before he turned to find almost all of his science department huddled together, staring in shock and awe at the board.

He could have sworn that they were all looking at a city full of ZPMs, from the looks on their faces. They were just completely shell-shocked.

‘Alright,’ Rodney said, voice slightly irritated, ‘Who did this, and why isn’t their name engraved on this board for all to see?’

The staff turned their heads towards him, then toward each other, murmuring and whispering in confusion.

Rodney raised his voice more, ‘Well?’ he demanded.

Still no one stepped forward, or even shouted. Needless to say, Rodney was disturbed. Every scientist knew to take credit for their work – they knew that they had earned it if they solved it. So _why_ was no one even faking the claim?

Rodney frowned, twisting to face the board again; ‘Huh.’

 

 

 

 

The day after, the entire science department received an email from Doctor Rodney McKay.

  

From: Rodney McKay, CSO

To: Atlantis Science Department

Subject: ATTENTION ALL SCIENCE STAFF

 

Minions,

 

Concerning the solution of Roykol’s Puddlejumper theory yesterday, I would like to personally congratulate the scientist responsible for the breakthrough, and get their name engraved on the halls of Atlantis for all to see.

Whoever you are, your solution was brilliant (absolutely no sarcasm here, not when it comes to science) and I would love to transfer you to work with Roykol personally.

So, whoever the hell you are, come forward and receive your prize.

If not, don’t worry, we WILL find you.

 

 

This message has come to you from the brilliant and unfettered mind of Doctor Rodney McKay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next incident was a few days later.

Yet again, Rodney, Zalenka and Roykol been pondering another of Roykol’s boards, an addition to the one that had been solved by the unclaimed scientist. Roykol had caught on quickly, Rodney had to grudgingly admit, and they were expanding rapidly on the theory – even including concepts and ideas for the inclusion of a Hyperdrive in the Jumpers. But that night they’d hit another roadblock. For the Hyperdrive in a Jumper to be effective, it needed to be able to open a relatively small hyperspace window. The window for a Jumper, however, would have to be very small, and with such a small space, hyperspace would become unstable very quickly. In order to compensate they would need to open a huge window in comparison, thus burning out the drive too fast, and allowing only limited travel because of the power generation of the Jumper. It was a major problem, and even Radek, head of Puddlejumper operations, and Rodney, Chief Science Officer, could not solve it.

Needless to say, it was looking pretty bleak.

So they’d taken a break, gone to eat, and have a few hours sleep. God knew they all needed it. They’d meet tomorrow morning to discuss the next step of the theory and, hopefully, a solution.

But when they entered Roykol’s lab the next morning, it was utter pandemonium.

Where there had been five boards yesterday, but now there were _fifteen_ in Roykol’s lab, occupying every space they would fit. Fifteen boards.

They were all scrawled across with the same writing as a few days ago, the spaces on them almost completely filled. This writing looked rushed, too, but there was so much of it Rodney knew the person that had done this had obviously been thinking about the problem in their spare time. And come up with this.

‘We seem to have a Magical Math Fairy,’ Radek said beside him, and Rodney instantly snapped out of his awe to shoot the Czech a withering glare.

‘Math Fairy?’

‘Magical Math Fairy,’ Radek corrected, ‘someone who does not wish to be recognized. They come here in the cover of darkness and work their magic. A Fairy,’ he insisted.

Rodney glared for another moment, then turned to the boards, read them, and shrugged. Even he had to grudgingly admit that this was kind of like magic for the science department.

And that name had a ring to it.

 

 

 

 

That afternoon, Rodney paid Carson a visit. It was quiet and uneventful in the Infirmary, which was good, because then Carson would have plenty of time to do exactly what Rodney needed.

Wandering further into the infirmary, he found his best friend sitting at a cluster of laptops, looking a little tired and bored. He brightened considerably as he saw Rodney, and the scientist let that bit of information add a bit to his ego. ‘Rodney,’ he said warmly, accent thicker than usual, ‘What can I do for you, lad?’

Rodney pretended to be offended. ‘What, I can’t just pop in for a visit?’

A dimpled smile crossed his face while he said, ‘Of course you can, but with the Jumper Hyperdrive theory I thought I wouldn’t hear a peep from you for weeks.’ He waited, watching Rodney splutter indignantly before taking pity on him and repeating, ‘What can I do for you?’

Rodney pulled a clear zip-lock bag from his pocket and handed it to him. ‘I need you to run a DNA test on this for me.’

Carson examined the object, then looked up at him. ‘You want me to run a DNA test on a… whiteboard marker?’

Rodney instantly launched into an explanation, ‘You see, we hit this block two weeks ago, and it went for a week and we couldn’t figure it out, and then we come in and the Magical Math Fairy has fixed it and provided us with more material. Then we hit a block last night, and when we came back this morning the Magical Math Fairy had come back and fixed it, and hade made ten more boards of calculations. We had five before.’

‘So you want to know who this… Magical Math Fairy is?’ Carson asked, still looking skeptical.

‘Well, of course!’ Rodney exclaimed. ‘None of us can take the credit for the calculations, and contrary to what everyone else believes about scientists, that person deserves the credit for their part in kick starting everything again, and we don’t want to steal that for ourselves.’

A classic Carson smile appeared on his face. ‘You know, Rodney, that’s very considerate of you. Of course I’ll help you.’

Rodney blinked. That had been easy. ‘Oh. Thanks, Carson,’ he said, and waved goodbye as he left the Infirmary.

 

 

 

 

 

The next night, Rodney spent the evening with John.

With his new work in the Hyperdrive concepts for the Puddlejumpers, he’d had so little time to socialize, and he found he’d actually missed spending time with John. So they’d organized a night in John’s quarters, watching movies and talking about the latest developments.

They had just finished watching Fantastic Four and cracked out the beer when Rodney told John about The Fairy.

The entire time, John listened with a strange mixture of a frown and a smirk on his face. If Rodney was honest with himself, the expression was kind of irritating.

He’d just finished telling him about the latest incident in Roykol’s lab, when John took a swig of his beer and said, ‘A scientist that doesn’t want to take credit? That’s certainly new.’

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with them,’ Rodney agreed. ‘This is _huge_ , why not take their fair share of credit for the extremely complicated math? It was so many different expressions and forms that the minions had to look some of them up.’

John laughed at that. ‘Sounds like we’ve got a genius on our hands,’ he said, and paused, the frown reappearing. ‘You said that the person hasn’t come forward?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What if they didn’t know you were searching for them?’

Rodney gave him a look. ‘What _are_ you getting at?’

‘What I mean is that, what if the Magical Math Fairy isn’t a scientist. Think about it,’ he urged at Rodney’s frown, ‘scientists always take credit; they know it’s important. So this has got to be someone else entirely. Someone who might be afraid of telling people how smart they are.’

‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?’

John gave him one of those mischievous smiles. ‘That’s what I’m here for. Also, Magical Math Fairy?’ the drawl increased tenfold.

‘What?’ Rodney was outraged. ‘I like it!’

‘Maybe they won’t come forward if you keep calling them a Fairy – it might insult them.’ He looked entirely serious.

‘What do you suggest, O Wise One?’ Rodney snapped.

It only made Sheppard’s smile bigger. ‘Find something better than Fairy, like… Pixie, or something.’

‘Pixie?’

‘You know, they still fly and are tiny, but Pixies are fierce. You know, they always kick magical ass in all the movies.’

John’s grin was huge, and he was having fun, drinking his beer and literally ribbing Rodney, and Rodney found himself relenting. He had missed spending time with John, but only now remembered how much influence the man seemed to have over him.

‘Fine,’ he said, stubbornness seeping into his tone. ‘Magical Math Pixie it is.’

 

 

 

 

 

Over the course of the next week, the Magical Math Pixie struck three times: twice on the Hyperdrive math again, and once on Miko’s proof on the inner mathematical workings of an ancient device.

If Rodney was honest with himself (and he had been a little bit more lately, to be fair), then he would admit that it was frustrating the hell out of him. Having a genius in their midst and having no idea who it was annoyed Rodney to the point where he interrogated anyone who entered his labs.

To put a stop to the whole situation, Rodney had gone down to see Carson for the results of that test.

‘Hey Carson,’ he said as he came closer. ‘What do you have for me?’

The man gave him a warm smile. ‘I just got the results back, actually,’ he said, and reached for his tablet. He touched a few buttons and turned the tablet to Rodney, coming to stand next to him so they could both read it. ‘There were three DNA strand matches. You, Radek, and…’ he paused a moment, squinting at the screen. ‘Oh, and Doctor Roykol.’

Rodney stared at the tablet in disbelief. ‘Is that all?’

Carson gave him a sad look. ‘I’m afraid so, lad. Sorry I couldn’t be much help.’

He was extremely disappointed that they had been so close… but he gave his friend a smile anyway. ‘It’s alright, Carson,’ he said sadly, ‘Thanks for trying.’

 

 

 

 

Two months passed and every day became a challenge: hunt for traces of the Magical Math Pixie.

In all that time, they’d been able to gather very little information about the Pixie.

There was no discernable pattern to the Pixie’s movements and changes, although lately it was a daily change. Any number of scientists would report a change to an equation on their board, and state that because of the Magical Math Pixie they had been spared hours of wasted work.

Everyone gossiped about who the Pixie could be, and many had their guesses – a surprisingly large amount of his minions said it was him, but he would _never_ go without credit, _ever_ – but Rodney knew that any person they named could not be it.

The problem was, John was probably right: the Magical Math Pixie was not a part of the science department.

Apart from the obvious reasons that John had highlighted, a number of other observations solidified Rodney’s belief. First, there was the fact that all changes were done when every single one of the scientists had gone home for the night. Secondly, there was the fact that all of the security cameras always shut down at exactly the time the Pixie would strike.

And thirdly, most importantly, the Pixie only ever made mathematical changes to the boards; they steered clear away from any sort of science, only ever doing problems that involved pure mathematics. This was such a rare skill that Rodney had tracked down anyone in his department and others that knew it. Suffice it to say, it was very few, and almost all of them had denied even hearing of the Magical Math Pixie.

Rodney was well and truly stumped.

 

 

 

 

McKay hated to admit it, but eventually, after another month of continuous Pixie reports, he had no intention of finding out who the hell was fucking around with his department.

He would love to have known, but the whole thing was ridiculous now.

A month ago he’d gotten so many people radioing him about changes that he had snapped. He couldn’t remember it well, but the email he’d sent had gone something like:

 

 

Minions,

Yes, I KNOW the Pixie visited you last night. Get in the fucking line. The Pixie visits us all, okay?

I understand that you want to tell me all of your little Pixie improvements, but rest assured, now you can do just that.

At the door to my lab, you will find a box, labeled Magical Math Pixie Reports. Tell me what the hell the Pixie has done and how it helps you, but write it down and put it in the box.

I will get there eventually.

 

 

 

 

It was a few days after that message that John strode into his lab like he owned the place.

As usual, they’d seen so little of each other aside from missions, but he was aware of Rodney’s decision to give up on the Pixie. In fact, he’d supported it; saying if they all loosened up the Pixie might slip. He kind of had a point.

He hadn’t really become aware of John until a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He’d been hunched over his desk, switching between hand-written notes and his laptop, under the harsh light of the lab.

‘Rodney,’ John drawled impatiently. ‘We’re having Doctor Who night tonight,’ he prodded.

A voice drifted over from the whiteboard, ‘Doctor Who? Is that the new season with David Tennant?’ And wow, Rodney had forgotten Radek was even there.

The infernal conversation continued in the background. By then, Rodney had become so attuned to tuning out his minions’ incompetence that a simple conversation was barely registering in his mind.

‘Of course it is,’ John answered. ‘He’s the best Doctor yet, but McKay wouldn’t believe me, so I borrowed the second season from Simpson.’

‘Hm,’ Radek replied. ‘I thought Tom Baker was a good Doctor.’

‘He was,’ John agreed passionately, and Rodney hadn’t realized he’d seen any of the older Doctor Who seasons. Huh.

‘What’cha working on?’ his friend asked Radek.

‘We’re fine-tuning the calibrations needed to open a tiny hyperspace window. It’s too small to maintain; at this size the window becomes unstable. It’s very difficult.’

‘So you’re stuck,’ Sheppard said, and Rodney could hear the smirk. ‘I thought the Magical Math Pixie took care of stuff like that.’

‘Usually. It doesn’t come out in the day, though. It’s nocturnal.’

He laughed, the sound refreshing and familiar to Rodney’s ears. ‘Yeah, Rodney told me. But don’t become complacent with this extra help around – what if the Pixie disappears one day?’

‘We will try not to,’ Radek said flatly, and apparently turned back to the board.

John’s footsteps took him closer. ‘That half of the equation is wrong,’ he said, sounding deep in thought. ‘The differential ratio for _f_ needs of be 5.29 to the power of 10. Also, just check the rest of that equation; it could change a lot.’

Radek took a few moments of answer, and as he did the marker squeaked on the whiteboard. ‘Yes… The whole equation needs –‘ Radek cut off, and then silence.

‘Well,’ John exclaimed, ‘This has been great, Radek, but Rodney and I are off to watch Doctor Who.’

Rodney felt a hand grip his arm and haul him out of the stool, and that reminded him entirely too much of the weapons training Sheppard used to drag him to. By the time that thought passed through his head, he was out of the lab and being pulled towards John’s room.

 

 

 

 

Rodney woke with a start, so many conversations playing over in his mind; over and over and over, and now it just seemed too blindingly obvious. ‘Of course!’ he yelled in excited annoyance to his empty quarters.

He rummaged through his room for a pair of trackpants, and as soon as he had them on, he was running out the door, heading for the Pixie’s quarters.

He may have cheated by using a transporter, but no one knew that, did they?

Rodney came to a halt and chimed the door, then pounded on it, yelling, ‘John!’

Within seconds Sheppard was opening the door, hair ruffled impossibly more than usual, trackpants askew from where he’d slept in them, and wearing an adorable t-shirt with a panda on it. Rodney frowned. He hadn’t seen that shirt before. But he liked it.

And since _when_ had Sheppard been adorable?

John rubbed his eyes with one hand, looking even _more_ adorable, while the other rested on Rodney’s shoulder. ‘What’s wrong, buddy?’ he asked, his voice rough but concerned.

Speaking through his panting, McKay replied, ‘I can’t… believe I missed… it.’

John’s eyes were even more worried now. ‘Missed what?’ he asked, drawing Rodney gently into his room.

‘You!’ he jabbed a finger at his best friend. ‘You’re the Magical Math Pixie!’

Sheppard’s face froze, and Rodney waited as his mouth opened and closed, then settled on the trademark Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard smirk. ‘So what if I am?’ he drawled calmly.

‘Hah!’ Rodney exclaimed. ‘I knew it!’

John shoved him playfully. ‘Only because I practically _told_ you a few hours ago, McKay,’ he teased, ‘I can’t believe Zelenka got it before you did.’

Rodney turned his nose up and ignored the comment. He sat beside John on the man’s frankly tiny bed.

McKay glanced toward his best friend after a moment, to find his gaze already on Rodney. The joking of moments ago had vanished completely, instead leaving the intensity that Sheppard only ever showed when he was thinking deeply. ‘I thought you’d have figured it out sooner,’ he said solemnly. ‘I wasn’t that subtle.’

And suddenly the conversation from two years ago on a green planet filled with leaves and _way_ too much dirt came back to him. ‘You could have been in Mensa,’ he sighed. ‘How could I forget that?’

John shrugged, and Rodney felt it more than saw. His shoulder was warm against the skin of John’s arm, soothing, and it honestly felt nice to just sit with his best friend – his _genius_ best friend, in any case.

They were still staring at the opposite wall when Rodney asked quietly, ‘Why?’

A moment of silence, and Rodney may be terrible with feelings, but he knew John, and he had worked John out over a large period of time. He knew the man would talk eventually; he’d just have to be patient, and in this situation it wasn’t too much of a hardship.

After a time, John sighed and shifted. ‘I’ve always loved math,’ he admitted slowly, as if he were thinking deeply about what to say. ‘People are confusing at the best of times; I always understood numbers. They just clicked together in my head, made me feel comfortable.’ He paused for a moment, rubbing his temples. ‘My parents didn’t like it. My dad… he was a businessman. He was smart, but not like me, and he didn’t want a son who was more intelligent than him. So I hid my results as long as I could. Then, one time in Year Nine my teacher called my parents to tell them how well I was doing… Dad wasn’t happy.’

Rodney watched as John struggled to keep his neutrality, and he nudged a little closer, hoping it was the right thing to do.

Apparently it was; and his friend took a deep breath before continuing, ‘My grades were straight Cs after that,’ he said, and finally a smile graced his face, ‘I managed to get into the Air Force first shot, and Dad hated it. I never spoke to him again.’

Rodney gave it a second, then said, ‘My parents were assholes, too.’

The smile solidified on Sheppard’s face. ‘When I got into the academy I studied Advanced Mathematics. I got my masters pretty young, and then I was deployed and apart from flying, I never get to use my skills. I saw the board in the lab the other day,’ he said, turning to Rodney at last, this time with a genuine smile. ‘You told me you’d been stuck for a week, so I had a look at the board as I passed through after looking for you in the labs. It was so easy I had it worked out in a couple of minutes in my head. Then I started writing.’

‘Huh,’ Rodney frowned.

‘I couldn’t help myself after that; I just had so much fun doing it the first time that I found myself going down to the labs at night fixing up the stuff your minions didn’t understand. I understand physics, but I didn’t want to ruin that side, so I just stuck to the math.’

‘Was it worth it?’ Rodney asked quietly.

‘Yeah,’ Sheppard said, and he was beaming, ‘it was. It feels so good to use my brain, and doing it in secret meant that no one would bother me while I was on duty. And I couldn’t stop. I wish I could do both. It just clicks, so naturally it’s like breathing.’

‘That easy for you?’

All traces of intensity from earlier had fled, leaving behind goofy old John. ‘Numbers like me,’ he said, sounding so proud.

Rodney snorted. ‘Of course they do, Captain Kirk,’ he remarked, then said, ‘You know, I wouldn’t mind having access to your math brain every now and then.’

‘Okay,’ John agreed readily, and he looked happier now, as if this was what he’d planned, and Rodney wouldn’t have put it past him.

‘Oh,’ Rodney said, ‘And you’d get credit, too.’

 

 

 

 

A month later, John met McKay in their lab.

McKay had literally begged Elizabeth to permit John to help him now and then, and she’d sounded as excited at the prospect of a pure mathematical genius in the department as much as Rodney did. Rodney and Zelenka had instantly agreed to share their lab, and John had moved some of his stuff in. He still had an office for the military stuff, but with Lorne in Atlantis sharing the workload, John had admitted that he’d had an awful lot of free time.

So they’d all come to a brilliant arrangement that Rodney was proud of.

John came in late, as usual, and settled himself on the end of Rodney’s desk with a notebook in his hands. Rodney had discovered John preferred to sit _on_ the desk instead of _at_ it. Oh, well. He didn’t really care that much, anyway.

The Johnny Cash music Sheppard had brought with him was playing quietly in the background, and Rodney hadn’t been sure about it at first, but after a week the silence of the lab had been oppressing, and he had turned on the player himself. Johnny Cash was starting to grow on him, and Radek, too.

They were all still working on the Puddlejumper Hyperdrive system, but with John openly helping it was moving along a lot quicker. Radek often told him how much he liked extra company in the labs, and Rodney had to admit he liked it a little, too.

The Science Department was coming together, too, and now they were all working openly instead of in the secrecy that scientists usually reserved for each other. Sheppard had done a lot of unintentional good for his department.

A knock at their lab door, and Rodney looked up to see Doctor Roykol leaning on the doorframe, with a stack of paper in his hands. ‘Hey, John!’ he called as he stepped inside and to the table on the right.

Sheppard gave him a wave. ‘Hey, David. Stuck again?’

The man grinned. ‘You betcha,’ he said cheerfully, and put his stack of paper into a box sitting on the table.

When he stepped away, the box was visible, with bold words stamped across the front:

 

**MAGICAL MATH PIXIE**

**Author's Note:**

> Geek John is love.


End file.
